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<title>A Game of Skill (or: Aziraphale and Crowley Play Poohsticks) by AnonymousDandelion</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29046930">A Game of Skill (or: Aziraphale and Crowley Play Poohsticks)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDandelion/pseuds/AnonymousDandelion'>AnonymousDandelion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills — Tumblr Good Omens Prompts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley Friendship (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Banter, Bickering, Competition, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Games, Humor, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Symbolism, M/M, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Poohsticks, Prompt Fill, Quote: You go too fast for me Crowley (Good Omens), Rivers, and the rest is all fluff and banter, brief blip of feels, but the blip is over very quickly, cheating at poohsticks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:48:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29046930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDandelion/pseuds/AnonymousDandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Remind me,” said Crowley, holding a stick and staring out over the edge of the bridge at the river below, “why are we doing this?”</p><p>
Aziraphale made a tutting sound. “Because it is a thing people do. In any case, we are engaging in a time-honored tradition of recreation which draws its inspiration from a great work of literature.”</p><p>~~~</p><p>Title says it all, really: Aziraphale and Crowley play Poohsticks. They also bicker and banter (because of course they do).</p><p>Written for <a href="https://goodomensprompts.tumblr.com/post/636688068063133696/aziraphale-and-crowley-playing-pooh-sticks#notes">this prompt</a>.</p><p>[<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30627140">Podfic now available</a>, read by semperfiona!]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills — Tumblr Good Omens Prompts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Aspec-friendly Good Omens</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Game of Skill (or: Aziraphale and Crowley Play Poohsticks)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tumblr+anon">tumblr anon</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>To the Tumblr anon who provided this idea, whoever you are: Thank you so much for the absolutely delightful prompt! I had a very good time filling it. I hope you find this, and enjoy the fluff that you inspired. :)</p><p>Also, Poohsticks is one of the best things ever to be produced by the literary world. This is my final word on the matter; I will brook no argument to the contrary.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Remind me,” said Crowley, holding a stick and staring out over the edge of the bridge at the river below, “why are we doing this?”</p><p>Aziraphale made a tutting sound. “Because it is a thing people do.”</p><p>“It is not a thing that <em> cool </em> people do,” Crowley protested. “It’s a thing that <em> weird </em>people do.”</p><p>“Well then,” Aziraphale said calmly, “it is certainly most fitting for us to be doing it.”</p><p>Crowley gaped, deeply affronted by that insinuation. “I’ll have you know, I am very cool! I am the height of coolness, I am the <em>definition</em> of coolness, I—”</p><p>“Yes, yes,” Aziraphale interrupted. “You’ve said so before, dear.”</p><p>“Ngk,” said Crowley.</p><p>Aziraphale patted his arm. “In any case, we are engaging in a time-honored tradition of recreation which draws its inspiration from a great work of literature. That should be reason enough.”</p><p>“Reason enough for you, maybe.”</p><p>“Indeed it is.”</p><p><em> “I,” </em> Crowley announced, “find it pointless. And ridiculous. And humiliating.”</p><p>“You need only play one round,” Aziraphale assured him. “Are you ready?”</p><p>Crowley pulled a face, but nodded. “Give us a countoff, angel.”</p><p>“One… two… <em> Crowley, I wasn’t done counting!” </em></p><p>“Didn’t tell me how high you were going to count, did you?”</p><p>“I should have thought it was obvious,” Aziraphale retorted.</p><p>“Too bad for you.”</p><p>“They <em> always </em> count to three nowadays. You are well aware of that.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk. Since when do you know anything about ‘nowadays’?”</p><p>“I hardly think that—” Aziraphale broke off abruptly. “Crowley, weren’t we supposed to go to the other side of the bridge to see who won?”</p><p>Crowley’s eyes widened in dawning, horrified realization.</p><p>They turned with perfect synchronicity, and reached the other side of the bridge just in time to see a pair of small, vaguely stick-colored specks — having already floated far enough downstream so as to be entirely indistinguishable from one another — disappear around the bend.</p><p>“Oh dear,” said Aziraphale. “Which of us won?”</p><p>“Me,” Crowley said promptly.</p><p>Aziraphale frowned. “How do you know?”</p><p>“Stands to reason. I dropped my stick before you did.”</p><p>“So you<em> admit </em> you cheated!”</p><p>“I didn’t say that! Wasn’t my fault I got there first. I always go too fast for you, that’s nothing new!”</p><p>Aziraphale went suddenly still, arrested in the act of preparing to fire off another retort. “That’s not… Crowley, I… you don’t… that was…"</p><p>Crowley himself looked just as shaken by the words that had slipped out of his mouth. “Don’t know why I said that. Didn’t… didn’t mean it like that. Just came out wrong.”</p><p>“You don’t, you know. It was never you.”</p><p>“Yeah. I know. Wasn’t you either.”</p><p>Crowley offered up an uncertain smile. After a moment, Aziraphale responded with one of his own, allowing his arm to swing until the back of his hand brushed, oh-so-casually, against Crowley’s. The spoken and unspoken words hung in the air between them for a few seconds. Mutual apologies. Mutual forgiveness. Mutual understanding.</p><p>Then Crowley cleared his throat and flicked his wrist, a new, curved stick appearing between his fingers. “Rematch?”</p><p>Aziraphale’s eyebrows flew upwards. “We said only one round,” he pointed out.</p><p>“We still need a winner.” Crowley held his stick aloft. “Huh, angel? You too chicken to accept my challenge?”</p><p>“Well, when you put it that way.” Aziraphale summoned his own stick into existence, weighing the balance in his hand. “Challenge accepted.”</p><p>Crowley grinned.</p><p>“We will both count off this time,” Aziraphale decided. “And neither of us will make our move until we have finished counting. To <em> three.” </em>He gave Crowley a pointed look. “The winner is the one whose stick gets to the other side of the bridge first. Do we have a deal?”</p><p>“Making a deal with a demon, Aziraphale? Risky business, that.” Crowley smirked back at him. “Yes, we have a deal.”</p><p>“One,” said Aziraphale.</p><p>“Two,” said Crowley.</p><p><em> “Three,” </em> they said in unison, and opened their hands.</p><p>They were across the bridge this time almost before either stick had hit the water. Crowley leaned over the railing, peering down, waiting for…</p><p>“Well,” said Aziraphale smugly, and indicated the white-barked stick bobbing gently just below them. “It seems that we have our winner.”</p><p>Crowley spun. “What? How? The current isn’t even moving that quickly, there’s no way…” His voice died out, mouth dropping open as Crowley apparently connected the dots. “Hey! Miracles are against the rules!”</p><p>Aziraphale tilted his head contemplatively, with the satisfied air of an angel who has just completed a highly successful thwarting of his adversary. “Neither of us <em> said </em> that miracles were against the rules. Do you know, my dear, I’m told making deals is risky business. You really must pay attention to the fine print — or lack thereof.”</p><p>Crowley sputtered.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled, perfectly composed. “Therefore, I win.”</p><p>“Rematch,” Crowley gritted out.</p><p>Aziraphale’s smile spread across his whole face, turning into a full-on beam. “Very well, then. If you insist.”</p><p>“Bastard,” Crowley accused.</p><p>“You’re very nice.”</p><p>Crowley glowered, doing his (not particularly effective) best to keep his face from betraying him by melting into fondness. “Let’s do this. No cheating.”</p><p>“No cheating,” Aziraphale promised.</p><p>They willed new sticks out of the firmament, held them dangling over the railing, and counted off together. “One, two, three!”</p><p>Aziraphale’s stick splashed down on the water below.</p><p>Crowley’s did not.</p><p>“You— <em> Crowley!”</em> Aziraphale gasped. He didn’t need to cross the bridge and see the serpent-shaped stick floating there to know what had happened. “You used a miracle!”</p><p>“And you <em> didn’t?” </em> Crowley sounded incredulous. “How was I supposed to know that? You’re the one who said miracles weren’t against the rules! We didn’t agree to change any of them.”</p><p>“You’re the one who said it <em> was </em> against the rules!” Aziraphale protested. “And then you said no cheating! It was… it was very clearly implied!”</p><p>Crowley smirked — a demon tasting sweet revenge. “Fine print, angel, remember?”</p><p>Aziraphale huffed.</p><p>“Guess that means I win.”</p><p>Aziraphale glared. “Rematch.”</p><p>“We were going to play one round,” Crowley objected. “We already did three.”</p><p>“And whose fault was that?” Aziraphale shot back. “You already requested two rematches. I think I am well within my rights to call for at least one.” He paused, then added, “Besides, if we stop now we’ll be leaving without a winner. We've each won one round. We need to break the draw.”</p><p>“Fine, then.” Crowley accepted that argument. “Tiebreaker, best out of three, not counting the first round. No miracles this time?”</p><p>“No miracles,” Aziraphale agreed. “And we count to three before playing.”</p><p>“Count to three. Any other fine print to add?”</p><p>“None that I can think of. You?”</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>They conjured new sticks into being. They counted to three. They dropped their sticks. They hurried across the bridge, leaning out so as to get a better view of the river.</p><p>Waiting, watching, eager to discover the ultimate winner of the day’s tournament…</p><p>Two sticks — one white of wood, one serpentine of shape — emerged from beneath the bridge. Floating abreast on the same piece of current, bobbing so closely together that it was impossible to say which was in the lead.</p><p>“Ah, well,” said Aziraphale. He did not sound disappointed.</p><p>Crowley sighed softly. He did not sound disappointed either.</p><p>Close together on the bridge they stood, angel and demon, shoulders nearly touching in possibly-unconscious (though probably very, very conscious) reminiscence of the sticks moving downstream.</p><p>Side by side, watching the world go by. Neither really winning, yet neither really losing.</p><p>Just as it had always been.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The penultimate sentence references a line towards the beginning of Good Omens, the book: <em>[the Arrangement] made certain that while neither really won, also neither really lost, and both were able to demonstrate to their masters the great strides they were making against a cunning and well-informed adversary.</em></p><p> For the record, Poohsticks is absolutely a thing that cool people do. And also weird people. Incidentally, these categories are not mutually exclusive.</p><p>I hope you had fun reading this, because I had much fun writing it. I'd love to hear from you in the comments, if you enjoyed. :) And thanks again to the anonymous Tumblr prompter who is the reason this exists!</p><p>Update (April 11, 2021): Semperfiona has recorded a podfic of this story, complete with babbling-brook background sounds! See the link below. ('Tis an excellent reading, and I definitely recommend giving it a listen.)</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30627140">[Podfic] A Game of Skill (or: Aziraphale and Crowley Play Poohsticks)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfiona/pseuds/semperfiona_podfic">semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
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